by Cheryl Holt
“He’s been very generous.” She waved at her dress. “He bought me clothes.”
“I was wondering. The color is very fetching on you.”
She blushed furiously, being inordinately pleased by the compliment. “He said I shouldn’t gad about the estate looking like a pauper.”
“He’s got a point.”
“I think he hopes—if he showers me with gifts—I’ll agree to his scheme.”
“There are worse fates than to live out your life as mistress of Summerfield.”
“Spoken like a man who is free to trot off and do whatever he likes.”
They were quiet then, and there was the most exhilarating sense of expectation in the air, as if any remarkable thing could transpire.
He stood and offered his hand for her to grab hold.
“What?” she asked.
“Come with me.”
“Where?”
“Into your bedchamber.”
“We shouldn’t go in there.”
“Why not?”
“We’re fine right where we are.”
“I hate chatting.”
“You do not.”
“I want to spend our time in more interesting pursuits.”
“I don’t.”
“Liar. Are you scared of what might happen?”
“Not…scared, precisely.” She thought about it, then laughed. “Well, maybe I’m a bit scared.”
“I need to show you something. You’ll like it. I promise.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Why, Miss Ralston,” he mocked, “have you a naughty side?”
“Yes. I didn’t realize I had a capacity for misbehavior, but you lure it to the fore.”
“I’m so delighted to hear it.”
He clasped her wrist and drew her to her feet. The swift motion pulled her against him, so in an instant, their bodies were forged fast. Sparks ignited, and she stared up at him, liking how he towered over her, feeling almost dizzy with glee at their intimate positioning.
“First, you have to tell me more about Veronica,” she insisted.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“She says you confided to Lucas that you’re enamored.”
“Lucas was just stirring trouble. He told her I was sweet on her, but I’m not.”
“I can’t decide if that’s the truth.”
“It absolutely is. She’s like an annoying little sister. I could never have affectionate feelings for her.”
“Swear it to me,” she urged.
“I swear.”
She scoffed with derision. “I have asked for your vow, but I have no means of judging if your word is any good.”
“It’s usually not, but in this case, I’m being candid.”
She studied him, seeking a veracity she couldn’t locate, and she had to admit that she was desperate to believe him.
It occurred to her that this was how unsuspecting females got themselves into jams. A cad could voice any falsehood, and Rose was disgusted over how rapidly she’d arrived at such an untenable spot.
He could fabricate or trick or conceal, and she’d merrily look the other way. Hadn’t they originally crossed paths because of his devil’s bargain with Mr. Oswald? Why was she able to ignore such an enormous flaw in his character? Why didn’t it matter anymore?
She shouldn’t have let him within a hundred yards of her, but in her recklessly smitten state, she was eager to disregard the obvious.
“I guess I don’t want to talk about Veronica,” she said.
“I never wanted to talk about her.”
“What is this grand secret you have in store? Let’s see if you can amaze me.”
“Oh, I can amaze you all right.”
“Shall we wager over it.”
“Don’t ever wager with me. You’ll only lose.”
She spun away, suddenly in a hurry to go exactly where she shouldn’t. She rushed into her bedchamber, and he swooped up behind and lifted her off the floor. In a flurry of petticoat and tangled legs, he tumbled them onto the bed. He came out on top, his large body holding her down in a manner that was unexpected, but particularly thrilling.
“How much wine have you had, Rose?” he asked.
“Not nearly enough.”
“If I could coax you in here so easily, I’m betting you’ve had plenty.”
“Drinking has added an entirely new dimension to my personality.”
“Are you becoming a doxy?”
“I’m worried I might be.”
“Lucky me to have stumbled on you just when you’ve discovered your first vice.”
“I have many vices.”
“Name one.”
“Cursing. Indecent conduct. Immoral thoughts. If I were a Catholic, I’d have to spend the next week on my knees in the confessional.”
“Good thing you’re not a Catholic then.”
“Yes, a very good thing,” she agreed, then mumbled, “I’m happy.”
“So am I.”
“I’m glad I met you.”
“So am I,” he said again, and they laughed.
Then they were quiet, staring, and he dipped in and kissed her. Immediately, she was sucked into the swirl of desire. Each time they jumped in the fray, the passion ignited quicker and burned hotter. If they kept on through her month’s visit, what would it be like in another thirty days? She couldn’t imagine.
He rolled and turned her, bit and licked her. His hands were everywhere, as he pinched and nibbled and massaged, until she could hardly breathe from the excitement he generated. Somehow, without her realizing it, he’d unbuttoned her dress, had bared her breasts and was sucking on her nipple.
“Here is your surprise,” he told her.
Like a virgin about to be sacrificed on an altar, she lie on her back, limbs splayed. “I think I’ll like it. I think there’s no question I will.”
He was tugging up her skirt, his fingers wandering up her thigh.
“Have you ever touched yourself here, Rose?”
“Where?” she inquired, not understanding his destination.
“This special spot.”
To her astonishment, he caressed her—at the woman’s sheath between her legs!
Instantly, she seemed to shatter, seemed to break into a thousand pieces. She was soaring to the heavens, and someone called out a wild, feral sound, and it took her a moment to recognize that the howl had emerged from her own throat.
The tumult went on and on until finally, blessedly, she reached an apex and began to tumble down. Eventually, she landed safely in his arms. He was grinning, preening, nuzzling a trail up her cleavage and neck.
“Gad, but you are so fine,” he murmured.
“What was that?” she gasped when she could speak.
“That was sexual pleasure.”
“It’s normal for it to happen?”
“Yes, it’s very, very normal.”
“Am I still a…virgin?”
“Yes, you’re still a virgin.”
“So I couldn’t be…with child?”
“No. There’s quite a bit more to it.”
“Show me.”
“Just relax, Rose.” He chuckled and kissed her again. “Relax for a minute.”
She gaped at the ceiling, trying to figure out how such marvelous bliss could have lurked out on the horizon, but she hadn’t known.
“Have I amazed you?” he inquired.
“Yes, you bounder.”
“Aren’t you glad I insisted on visiting?”
“Now that you’ve so competently demonstrated your devious tricks, I might never leave this bed.”
“We’ll wallow here for all eternity?”
“That depends. Can you make it happen more than once?”
He laughed, then sobered. “Yes, it can happen every time—if we work at it. I always forget how dissolute my life has been. I forget there are women like you in the world.”
“Women like me? What does that mean?”
“You’re so sweet and innocent. I’m almost sorry I corrupted you.”
“I’m not!”
He laughed again, and he shifted onto his back with her draped across his chest. He caressed a lazy hand up and down her arm.
She let out a huge, unladylike yawn.
“All of a sudden, I’m so tired.”
“Carnal conduct can exhaust a person.”
“I need a nap.”
“Feel free to rest. Get your strength up so we can start again.”
She was swiftly fading away. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I won’t.”
She didn’t want to sleep, but couldn’t stop the creeping lethargy. As she dozed off, she thought he was smiling, and vaguely, it occurred to her that he hardly ever smiled. She made him smile.
She snuggled closer, slumber encroaching. She simply couldn’t prevent it.
When she opened her eyes, it was morning, sun shining in the window. She groaned and stretched, her head pounding from the wine she’d drunk.
Slowly, memory returned, and she recollected the prior evening with James. She glanced over, terrified that he might still be next to her, but he wasn’t.
To her eternal delight, he’d left a single rose on his pillow—with a note: A rose for Rose.
She sighed, wondering what would ever become of her now.
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Let’s walk in the garden.”
“No.”
James flashed a tight smile at Veronica.
She was at the house again, invited to supper this time so she had every right to be in the parlor. The meal was ended, and there were a dozen ways she could entertain herself, but she was stuck to James like glue. Ever since he’d learned of Lucas’s shenanigans, his interactions with her had been incredibly awkward.
He wanted to say, Look, I’m not about to propose, but that would make the situation even more awkward.
Obviously, she’d believed Lucas. Whenever she and James were together, she’d grin at him as if they were friendlier than they actually were, and he was particularly careful to not be caught alone with her.
There was a sneaky facet to her character that he’d never liked, and he wouldn’t put it past her to engineer mischief.
“Then would you escort me to the buffet table?” she asked. “I’m starving.”
“I already promised I’d eat with Miss Ralston.”
“Miss Ralston! Miss Ralston!” she snapped. “It’s the only name I ever hear.”
“Well, she is Stanley’s guest, and everyone is talking about her.”
“Do you think she’s pretty?”
James peered across the room where Rose was chatting with a group of young ladies. His expression blank, he said, “Yes, she’s pretty.”
Veronica frowned. “Prettier than me?”
“How can a man answer that question without getting himself into trouble?”
“It’s not difficult to choose. You think I’m prettier or you think she is.”
“I think it’s a tie,” James judiciously responded.
“You can’t mean it.”
“You’re both marvelous.” He tipped his head. “Now then, if you’ll pardon me, I’d like some fresh air.”
“Are you going out to the verandah? I’ll come with you.”
“No. I’m tired of the socializing. I need a few minutes to myself.”
He hurried off, and as he stepped outside, he could barely keep from glancing back to see if she’d followed him. He leaned on the balustrade, and to his great relief, she wasn’t there. But she was watching him through the open doors. She was pretending she wasn’t, but she couldn’t hide her keen interest in his whereabouts.
He sighed and slid further into the shadows so he wasn’t visible to her.
He could wring Lucas’s neck. The entire fiasco proved that he should proceed to London—sooner rather than later—but he wouldn’t. He was beginning to suspect he couldn’t go.
Rose had intrigued him to the point where he didn’t know up from down. Their forays into passion had left him disturbed in ways he hadn’t thought possible. She was just so refreshing, so pure and unsullied, and her innocence enchanted him.
He’d been in the army too long, he realized. Trollops went with the territory, so he was used to women who were rough and tumble, who viewed sexual conduct as a business transaction: money paid for services rendered.
He never crossed paths with virtuous females, and even on those rare occasions when he did, it would have been the height of impropriety to seduce any of them.
Rose shouldn’t have let him, either, and he shouldn’t have tried, but where she was concerned his common sense had fled.
He was struggling to figure out his plan. How far would he take his flirtation? Would he ultimately relieve her of her virginity? She craved that ending, but she didn’t understand what she was truly requesting, so she couldn’t be the one to decide.
If he pushed the issue, if he deflowered her, she could wind up with child, which was the conclusion Stanley had sought. Would James give it to him?
He had no intention of carrying out his bargain with Stanley. At least, he didn’t expect he would. But whenever he looked at Rose, his masculine instincts flared, and he couldn’t convince himself that discipline should be exercised.
Over by the doors, a group of guests surged onto the verandah. Rose was with them. She espied him in his hiding spot and waved him over.
“It’s such a warm night,” she said. “We’re walking to the pond to cool down. Will you join us?”
“Yes, certainly.”
People were laughing, pairing up, and they promenaded down the stairs and into the garden, with Lucas leading the way. Rose very shrewdly arranged herself so she and James were the last down, so she could slip her arm into his. It was all very proper, very correct.
“Whose idea was this moonlight stroll?” he asked.
“Mine. I needed to get outside.”
“What if I’d refused to accompany you?”
“I’d have had to pick another fellow to escort me.”
He snorted. “If you require escorting¸ I am at your service.”
“Of course you are. That’s why I came to fetch you.”
They slowed, the others farther and farther ahead. No one noticed their sluggish pace. No one glanced back to learn why they weren’t keeping up.
“Is there always so much socializing here at Summerfield?” she inquired.
“No, there’s never any.”
“So it’s all for my benefit.”
“Yes.”
“I hate to sound rude, but I’m weary of meeting the neighbors.”
“They all like you.”
“I’m a likeable person.”
He chuckled, his torrid gaze wandering down her body. “You definitely are. I like you more than anyone.”
“Would you be serious? And don’t look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you want to gobble me up.”
He leaned nearer and whispered, “I do want to gobble you up.”
“Well, don’t let the others see you. They might wonder about us.”
“Heaven forbid.”
“Yes, heaven forbid. I’m determined to get through this escapade with no damage to my reputation.”
“Good luck.”
“Luck isn’t involved. Moral behavior is necessary, but I’m suffering from an enormous lack of it.”
“I don’t mind.”
She grinned impishly. “I wish I could tell them all to go home so I can have you all to myself.”
“I wish you could too.”
“Instead, I’m reduced to organizing innocent strolls in the garden.”
“It’s not so bad, is it?”
“No, but when Mr. Oswald returns, if I asked him to stop throwing all these soirees, would he be offended?”
“No. He doesn’t like entertaining any more than you.”
�
��Since I’m leaving in a few weeks, it seems so pointless.”
He gestured to the couples up ahead. “They’re happy you’re here. They like the excuse it’s furnished for them to make merry. It can be a dreary place most of the time.”
“So I’m providing a community benefit?”
“Absolutely. The younger people are especially grateful. Occasionally, months drag by with no amusement at all.”
“I’m a blessing in disguise.”
“Yes.”
James peeked over his shoulder, saw no one behind them. They were passing a dark stretch of bushes, and he clasped her wrist and stepped off the path.
“What are you doing?” she hissed.
“What do you think?”
“We can’t disappear.”
“We already have.”
“They’re bound to notice.”
“I doubt it.”
“They will! We can’t—”
He laid a finger on her lips, silencing her. “Rose?”
“Yes?”
“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”
“Yes, you wretched libertine.”
“Will we get to do it again?”
“Perhaps.” She tormented him by saying, “I’m still deciding if I like you enough.”
“Vixen,” he muttered.
“Me? Am I?”
“Yes. You’re too damned fetching for your own good. I can’t stand it.”
“How fascinating. I’ve always viewed myself as being very plain and ordinary. I never believed I had any loose tendencies at all.”
“Trust me, you’re a natural at this.”
Very quickly, she was learning the skills of a coquette. She looked pretty and flirtatious, displaying a refreshing and humorous mix of bravado and charm that made him yearn to throw her down and have his way with her in the grass.
He settled for sliding an arm around her waist, and he kissed her thoroughly, keeping on and on until she was leaned against him, her knees weak, her balance affected.
As he drew away, she was smiling, her beauty rattling him, annoying him.
He didn’t like her to be so marvelous. He wished she was a tad more average as she deemed herself to be. He wished he wasn’t quite so enchanted by her. It couldn’t lead to any beneficial conclusion.
“We’d better catch up with the guests,” she murmured, but she didn’t move.
“Do you suppose they’ve noted we’re missing?”
